the keys to the given!

anonymous asked:

How do I correct someone’s mistake without being rude?

Its like to give nasseha : A sincere advisor must be kind, soft and well-mannered in giving naseehah to others, as this might get the desired response from the one he is advising. One must understand that accepting naseehah is like opening a door, and that the door will not open without the proper key. The one who is given naseeha has a heart that has a lock in some matter - for he has abandoned something that Allah has demanded from him, or has committed something that Allah had forbidden him from. There is no better key to unlock the heart than kindness in giving advice, gentleness in exhortation and softness in speech as the Prophet ( ṣallā llāhu ʿalayhi wasallam ) has said, “Kindness is not to be found in anything but that it adds to its beauty, and it is not withdrawn from anything but it makes it defective.” [Muslim]

I just learned yesterday that Pikachu, my favorite Pokemon, was originally designed not by Ken Sugimori (he only finalized the design), but by a female graphic designer named Atsuko Nishida. 

Also after googling her, I found out that she’s also designed Sylveon–another favorite PKMN of mine. She’s also illustrated some very pretty Pokemon cards!!

Thank you Ms. Nishida! :-) May you get more credit and love for your contribution to the Pokemon franchise.

december 31st, 2015, 10:23 pm: i saw you for the first time. you were talking to a girl and i could tell that you were capturing her with every syllable that left your mouth. and i knew why: you were beautiful and bright, and i was drawn to you even then, like the planets are drawn to the sun.

december 31st, 2015, 11:58 pm: we met standing in line for the bathroom. you introduced yourself, and asked for my name, smiling when i gave it. “lovely,” you murmured, and repeated it a few more times, rolling the letters around in your mouth like a new food.

january 1st, 2016, 12:05 am: i could still feel you on me, your lips, minutes, hours, months later. the clock had struck midnight and you just grabbed me, didn’t ask if it was okay until it was over. you were laughing, brushing it off, all teeth and well-kissed lips, but i knew i saw you blushing. 

january 21st, 2016, 1:12 pm: you got my number through the mutual friend that threw the party. i still don’t know how you got my address. i didn’t remember telling you. you couldn’t tell me, either.

february 14th, 2016, 9:12 pm: you took me out to dinner and bought me chocolate and roses. it was all so cliche, and i loved every second of it. when you kissed me good night, i swore i could feel the rest of my life, pressed right up against my lips.

february 26th, 2016, 11:33 pm: we made it official. i remember how you asked me, how shy you got, like you didn’t know what the answer would be.

march 17th, 2016, 5:43 pm: we spent the day at the saint patrick’s day parade, and you filled yourself with beer and kissed me hard against the bar bathroom door. i drove you home and that was the first time you told me you loved me.

march 18th, 2016, 9:24 am: you called me and told me you loved me again. “i want to make sure that you know i still mean it when i’m sober,” you said.

march 24th, 2016, 1:09 pm: i met your parents at easter brunch. you had demanded i come with you, and i was glad i did. your mother was kind and beautiful, and your father was warm and handsome, just like i knew they’d be. after we’d eaten, your mother got me alone. “he’s never brought a girl home before,” she told me, “normally he isn’t very open about who he’s dating. but you, you’re different. don’t read into this, but i think he may really think you’re special.”

april 12th, 2016, 8:31 pm: you saw me naked for the first time, and you kissed every inch of my skin. i’d never felt that much love from anybody before that night, and i haven’t since. not even you could replicate those few hours.

may 5th, 2016, 4:57 pm: we fought for the first time. i ran into my ex at the grocery store and wanted to chat for a few minutes. you didn’t. when we got in the car, you told me that if i was still in love with somebody else i could just leave, and i told you that you should trust me and not be so insecure about our relationship. we screamed the whole way home and you slammed the car door when i dropped you off. i almost crashed three times on the drive home.

may 6th, 2016, 8:03 am: you came by with flowers and breakfast. “I’m sorry,” you told me, “you just mean so much to me, and the thought of you ever being anyone else’s makes me sick.” i smiled, “but you don’t have to worry about that now. i’m yours.”

june 16th, 2016, 10:51 pm: for my birthday you took me out to dinner and gave me a beautiful necklace with a silver chain and pearl pendant. we drank expensive wine and stumbled back to my place and fucked. i had never been fucked before, not like this. i woke up the next morning with bite marks on my neck and hickeys all the way down my stomach, but you were gone. “had to run,” you’d written on a post it note, “i love you.”

june 18th, 2016, 2: 41 pm: i hadn’t seen you since my birthday and you weren’t picking up when i’d call.

june 19th, 2016, 3:13 am: “ had to run,” the post it note had said. maybe you were running from me. i couldn’t tell if it was the 3 am darkness talking or the part of me that already knew.

july 1st, 2016, 4:01 am: i looked over at you, sleeping in the darkness beside me. when we were together, things felt perfectly normal. but now, i could feel the shifts. “are we falling apart?” i whispered to you, and although i hadn’t expected an answer, the silence broke my heart all the same.

july 4th, 2016, 6:47 pm: we were at a barbecue and i saw you across the crowd, talking to a girl. i saw the way she was drinking up every word that escaped from between your lips, and that’s when i knew. that’s when i knew you weren’t mine anymore.
july 21st, 2016, 7:08 pm: i brought it up to you. “i think we’re starting to grow apart,” i said, “there’s a distance between us that wasn’t here before.” you reassured me that it was all in my head, but i didn’t hear it in your voice. i didn’t see it in your eyes. you knew it was there, too, but unlike me, you weren’t trying to do anything to stop it.

august 10th, 2016, 11:37 pm: i lay awake and thought about what your mother said, all these months later. “don’t read into this.” but of course i did. i couldn’t help myself. fuck, i loved you so much.
august 15th, 2016, 1:12 pm: you invited me over and i discovered that the key you’d given me no longer worked. “i had the locks changed,” you said, “i’ll get you a new one.” it was a lie, and i knew it. you didn’t get me a new key.

september 8th, 2016, 2:00 pm: i caught you cheating. in a desperate attempt to revive the romance we’d had at the beginning of our relationship, i bought dinner and brought it to your place. when you finally opened the door, i saw it written all over your face; the way your eyes widened, the way your jaw dropped, the way your cheeks drained of color. i heard it in the stammer of your voice, the sharp intake of your breath, the grinding of your teeth. when the girl walked up behind you, half naked, asking who it was at the door, i already knew. “how could you?” i whispered, and you just opened and closed your mouth. the girl pieced it together and started screaming. she hadn’t known. i left the food at the doorstep.

september 10th, 2016, 1:49 am: you never called after that, never came by, never reached out, but it wasn’t like we’d needed to confirm anything. i knew it was over, but it took every ounce of willpower i had not to go back to your place and find out why, why everything.

september 27th, 2016, 6:20 pm: i kept finding myself huddled in a ball; in my bedroom, in my kitchen, in my shower. not crying, or yelling. just huddled, clutching my body close to myself, staring. still not understanding.

october 31st 2016, 9:01 pm: i spent halloween haunted by the ghost of you. your face was around every corner. i could still feel your touch trickling down my spine. that night, i lost it. the anger surged through the sadness and bubbled to the surface. i screamed until my throat was raw, screamed at nothing, about nothing, for no reason other than i was too full.

november 10th, 2016, 2:17 am: you called me when you were drunk and i answered. i listened to you ramble, vomiting up apology after apology. near the end, you told me you loved me. “call me tomorrow when you’re sober if you still love me,” i said.  you didn’t. 

november 25th, 2016, 7:15 pm: i went out on a date with somebody new. they didn’t pull me in like you did, but for a few hours, i forgot about you and i felt okay. i drank myself to sleep that night so i wouldn’t have to think about you. the next morning, the hangover hurt more than you did. it was a start.

december 24th, 2016, 8:12 pm: i was spending christmas with my family, and i was doing great until my aunt asked about you. i told her you cheated, but i was doing okay, and then i excused myself and threw up the appetizers into the toilet. i called you then, and when you picked up, i let out a sob. “you ruined me, you fuck,” i croaked, “and you can’t even apologize. not when you’re sober, at least.” there were a few seconds of silence, and then you hung up. i still hope that it ruined your christmas.

december 31st, 2016, 10:23 pm: i saw you for the first time in months across the crowd. it made me sick to know that even after all that had happened, you were still the most beautiful person in the room to me.

december 31st, 2016, 11:55 pm: you found me in the kitchen. “i wanted to tell you i’m sorry,” you yelled over the music, “and i miss you.” and in those final moments of the year, i thought about it. i thought about letting you back in. the countdown started, and you moved closer to me. and i.. i pushed you away. i turned away from you and said, “no. i can’t.” and i walked out of the room.

january 1st, 2017, 12:05 am: i have forgotten how you felt against me, your lips. and for the first time, i am finally okay with that.

—  a year in review -c.h. // instagram: @evanescent.love (via @poeticaffinity)

I want to be brave
and open your door
to dig deeper
on the things
that made you happy,

yet I was also scared
to walk alone,

to feel at home
inside a place

where I’m not
allowed to enter,

where I’m not given
a duplicate key.

—  ma.c.a // Why won’t you let me in?
5

There must be both dark and light. I will do what I must to keep the balance, as the balance is what holds all life. There is no good without evil, but evil must not be allowed to flourish. There is passion, yet peace; serenity, yet emotion; chaos, yet order. I am a wielder of the flame; a champion of balance. I am a guardian of life. I am a Gray Jedi.

Dead Fandoms, Part 3

Read Part One of Dead Fandoms here. 

Read Part Two of Dead Fandoms here. 

Before we continue, I want to add the usual caveat that I actually don’t want to be right about these fandoms being dead. I like enthusiasm and energy and it’s a shame to see it vanish.


Mists of Avalon

Remember that period of time of about 15 years, where absolutely everybody read this book and was obsessed with it? It could not have been bigger, and the fandom was Anne Rice huge, overlapping for several years with USENET and the early World Wide Web…but it’s since petered out. 

Mists of Avalon’s popularity may be due to the most excellent case of hitting a demographic sweet spot ever. The book was a feminist retelling of the Arthurian Mythos where Morgan Le Fay is the main character, a pagan from matriarchal goddess religions who is fighting against encroaching Christianity and patriarchal forms of society coming in with it. Also, it made Lancelot bisexual and his conflict is how torn he is about his attraction to both Arthur and Guinevere.

Remember, this novel came out in 1983 – talk about being ahead of your time! If it came out today, the reaction from a certain corner would be something like “it is with a heavy heart that I inform you that tumblr is at it again.”

Man, demographically speaking, that’s called “nailing it.” It used to be one of the favorite books of the kind of person who’s bookshelf is dominated by fantasy novels about outspoken, fiery-tongued redheaded women, who dream of someday moving to Scotland, who love Enya music and Kate Bush, who sell homemade needlepoint stuff on etsy, who consider their religious beliefs neo-pagan or wicca, and who have like 15 cats, three of which are named Isis, Hypatia, and Morrigan.

This type of person is still with us, so why did this novel fade in popularity? There’s actually a single hideous reason: after her death around 2001, facts came out that Marion Zimmer Bradley abused her daughters sexually. Even when she was alive, she was known for defending and enabling a known child abuser, her husband, Walter Breen. To say people see your work differently after something like this is an understatement – especially if your identity is built around being a progressive and feminist author.


Robotech

I try to break up my sections on dead fandoms into three parts: first, I explain the property, then explain why it found a devoted audience, and finally, I explain why that fan devotion and community went away. Well, in the case of Robotech, I can do all three with a single sentence: it was the first boy pilot/giant robot Japanimation series that shot for an older, teenage audience to be widely released in the West. Robotech found an audience when it was the only true anime to be widely available, and lost it when became just another import anime show. In the days of Crunchyroll, it’s really hard to explain what made Robotech so special, because it means describing a different world.

Try to imagine what it was like in 1986 for Japanime fans: there were barely any video imports, and if you wanted a series, you usually had to trade tapes at your local basement club (they were so precious they couldn’t even be sold, only traded). If you were lucky, you were given a script to translate what you were watching. Robotech though, was on every day, usually after school. You want an action figure? Well, you could buy a Robotech Valkyrie or a Minmei figure at your local corner FAO Schwartz. 

However, the very strategy that led to it getting syndicated is the very reason it was later vilified by the purists who emerged when anime became a widespread cultural force: strictly speaking, there actually is no show called “Robotech.” Since Japanese shows tend to be short run, say, 50-60 episodes, it fell well under the 80-100 episode mark needed for syndication in the US. The producer of Harmony Gold, Carl Macek, had a solution: he’d cut three unrelated but similar looking series together into one, called “Robotech.” The shows looked very similar, had similar love triangles, used similar tropes, and even had little references to each other, so the fit was natural. It led to Robotech becoming a weekday afternoon staple with a strong fandom who called themselves “Protoculture Addicts.” There were conventions entirely devoted to Robotech. The supposed shower scene where Minmei was bare-breasted was the barely whispered stuff of pervert legend in pre-internet days. And the tie in novels, written with the entirely western/Harmony Gold conception of the series and which continued the story, were actually surprisingly readable.

The final nail in the coffin of Robotech fandom was the rise of Sailor Moon, Toonami, Dragonball, and yes, Pokemon (like MC Hammer’s role in popularizing hip hop, Pokemon is often written out of its role in creating an audience for the next wave of cartoon imports out of insecurity). Anime popularity in the West can be defined as not a continuing unbroken chain like scifi book fandom is, but as an unrelated series of waves, like multiple ancient ruins buried on top of each other (Robotech was the vanguard of the third wave, as Anime historians reckon); Robotech’s wave was subsumed by the next, which had different priorities and different “core texts.” Pikachu did what the Zentraedi and Invid couldn’t do: they destroyed the SDF-1.


Legion of Super-Heroes

Legion of Superheroes was comic set in the distant future that combined superheroes with space opera, with a visual aesthetic that can best be described as “Star Trek: the Motion Picture, if it was set in a disco.” 

I’ve heard wrestling described as “a soap opera for men.” If that’s the case, then Legion of Super-Heroes was a soap opera for nerds. The book is about attractive 20-somethings who seem to hook up all the time. As a result, it had a large female fanbase, which, I cannot stress enough, is incredibly unusual for this era in comics history. And if you have female fans, you get a lot of shipping and slashfic, and lots of speculation over which of the boy characters in the series is gay. The fanon answer is Element Lad, because he wore magenta-pink and never had a girlfriend. (Can’t argue with bulletproof logic like that.) In other words, it was a 1970s-80s fandom that felt much more “modern” than the more right-brained, bloodless, often anal scifi fandoms that existed around the same time, where letters pages were just nitpicking science errors by model train and elevator enthusiasts.

Legion Headquarters seemed to be a rabbit fuck den built around a supercomputer and Danger Room. Cosmic Boy dressed like Tim Curry in Rocky Horror. There’s one member, Duo Damsel, who can turn into two people, a power that, in the words of Legion writer Jim Shooter, was “useful for weird sex…and not much else.”

LSH was popular because the fans were insanely horny. This is, beyond the shadow of a doubt, the thirstiest fandom of all time.  You might think I’m overselling this, but I really think that’s an under-analyzed part of how some kinds of fiction build a devoted fanbase.  

For example, a big reason for the success of Mass Effect is that everyone has a favorite girl or boy, and you have the option to romance them. Likewise, everyone who was a fan of Legion remembers having a crush. Sardonic Ultra Boy for some reason was a favorite among gay male nerds (aka the Robert Conrad Effect). Tall, blonde, amazonian telepath Saturn Girl, maybe the first female team leader in comics history, is for the guys with backbone who prefer Veronica over Betty. Shrinking Violet was a cute Audrey Hepburn type. And don’t forget Shadow Lass, who was a blue skinned alien babe with pointed ears and is heavily implied to have an accent (she was Aayla Secura before Aayla Secura was Aayla Secura). Light Lass was commonly believed to be “coded lesbian” because of a short haircut and her relationships with men didn’t work out. The point is, it’s one thing to read about the adventures of a superteam, and it implies a totally different level of mental and emotional involvement to read the adventures of your imaginary girlfriend/boyfriend.  

Now, I should point out that of all the fandoms I’ve examined here, LSH was maybe the smallest. Legion was never a top seller, but it was a favorite of the most devoted of fans who kept it alive all through the seventies and eighties with an energy and intensity disproportionate to their actual numbers. My gosh, were LSH fans devoted! Interlac and Legion Outpost were two Legion fanzines that are some of the most famous fanzines in comics history.

If nerd culture fandoms were drugs, Star Wars would be alcohol, Doctor Who would be weed, but Legion of Super-Heroes would be injecting heroin directly into your eyeballs. Maybe it is because the Legionnaires were nerdy, too: they played Dungeons and Dragons in their off time (an escape, no doubt, from their humdrum, mundane lives as galaxy-rescuing superheroes). There were sometimes call outs to Monty Python. Basically, the whole thing had a feel like the dorkily earnest skits or filk-singing at a con. Legion felt like it’s own fan series, guest starring Patton Oswalt and Felicia Day.

It helped that the boundary between fandom and professional was incredibly porous. For instance, pro-artist Dave Cockrum did covers for Legion fanzines. Former Legion APA members Todd and Mary Biernbaum got a chance to actually write Legion, where, with the gusto of former slashfic writers given the keys to canon, their major contribution was a subplot that explicitly made Element Lad gay. Mike Grell, a professional artist who got paid to work on the series, did vaguely porno-ish fan art. Again, it’s hard to tell where the pros started and the fandom ended; the inmates were running the asylum.

Mostly, Legion earned this devotion because it could reward it in a way no other comic could. Because Legion was not a wide market comic but was bought by a core audience, after a point, there were no self-contained one-and-done Legion stories. In fact, there weren’t even really arcs as we know it, which is why Legion always has problems getting reprinted in trade form. Legion was plotted like a daytime soap opera: there were always five different stories going on in every issue, and a comic involved cutting between them. Sure, like daytime soap operas, there’s never a beginning, just endless middles, so it was totally impossible for a newbie to jump on board…but soap operas know what they are doing: long term storytelling rewards a long term reader.

This brings me to today, where Legion is no longer being published by DC. There is no discussion about a movie or TV revival. This is amazing. Comics are a world where the tiniest nerd groups get pandered to: Micronauts, Weirdworld, Seeker 3000, and Rom have had revival series, for pete’s sake. It’s incredible there’s no discussion of a film or TV treatment, either; friggin Cyborg from New Teen Titans is getting a solo movie. 

Why did Legion stop being such a big deal? Where did the fandom that supported it dissolve to? One word: X-Men. Legion was incredibly ahead of its time. In the 60s and 70s, there were barely any “fan” comics, since superhero comics were like animation is today: mostly aimed at kids, with a minority of discerning adult/teen fans, and it was success among kids, not fans, that led to something being a top seller (hence, “fan favorites” in the 1970s, as surprising as it is to us today, often did not get a lot of work, like Don MacGregor or Barry Smith). But as newsstands started to push comics out, the fan audience started to get bigger and more important…everyone else started to catch up to the things that made Legion unique: most comics started to have attractive people who paired up into couples and/or love triangles, and featured extremely byzantine long term storytelling. If Legion of Super-Heroes is going to be remembered for anything, it’s for being the smaller scale “John the Baptist” to the phenomenon of X-Men, the ultimate “fan” comic.

The other thing that killed Legion, apart from Marvel’s Merry Mutants, that is, was the r-word: reboots. A reboot only works for some properties, but not others. You reboot something when you want to find something for a mass audience to respond to, like with Zorro, Batman, or Godzilla.

Legion, though, was not a comic for everybody, it was a fanboy/girl comic beloved by a niche who read it for continuing stories and minutiae (and to jack off, and in some cases, jill off). Rebooting a comic like that is a bad idea. You do not reboot something where the main way you engage with the property, the greatest strength, is the accumulated lore and history. Rebooting a property like that means losing the reason people like it, and unless it’s something with a wide audience, you only lose fans and won’t get anything in return for it. So for something like Legion (small fandom obsessed with long form plots and details, but unlike Trek, no name recognition) a reboot is the ultimate Achilles heel that shatters everything, a self-destruct button they kept hitting over and over and over until there was nothing at all left.


E. E. Smith’s Lensman Novels

The Lensman series is like Gil Evans’s jazz: it’s your grandparents’ favorite thing that you’ve never heard of. 

I mean, have you ever wondered exactly what scifi fandom talked about before the rise of the major core texts and cultural objects (Star Trek, Asimov, etc)? Well, it was this. Lensmen was the subject of fanfiction mailed in manilla envelopes during the 30s, 40s, and 50s (some of which are still around). If you’re from Boston, you might recognize that the two biggest and oldest scifi cons there going back to the 1940s, Boskone (Boscon, get it?) and Arisia, are references to the Lensman series. This series not only created space opera as we know it, but contributed two of the biggest visuals in scifi, the interstellar police drawn from different alien species, and space marines in power armor.

My favorite sign of how big this series was and how fans responded to it, was a great wedding held at Worldcon that duplicated Kimball Kinnison and Clarissa’s wedding on Klovia. This is adorable:

The basic story is pure good vs. evil: galactic civilization faces a crime and piracy wave of unprecedented proportions from technologically advanced pirates (the memory of Prohibition, where criminals had superior firearms and faster cars than the cops, was strong by the mid-1930s). A young officer, Kimball Kinnison (who speaks in a Stan Lee esque style of dialogue known as “mid-century American wiseass”), graduates the academy and is granted a Lens, an object from an ancient mystery civilization, who’s true purpose is unknown.

Lensman Kinnison discovers that the “crime wave” is actually a hostile invasion and assault by a totally alien culture that is based on hierarchy, intolerant of failure, and at the highest level, is ruled by horrifying nightmare things that breathe freezing poison gases. Along the way, he picks up allies, like van Buskirk, a variant human space marine from a heavy gravity planet who can do a standing jump of 20 feet in full space armor, Worsel, a telepathic dragon warrior scientist with the technical improvisation skills of MacGyver (who reads like the most sadistically minmaxed munchkinized RPG character of all time), and Nandreck, a psychologist from a Pluto-like planet of selfish cowards.

The scale of the conflict starts small, just skirmishes with pirates, but explodes to near apocalyptic dimensions. This series has space battles with millions of starships emerging from hyperspacial tubes to attack the ultragood Arisians, homeworld of the first intelligent race in the cosmos. By the end of the fourth book, there are mind battles where the reflected and parried mental beams leave hundreds of innocent bystanders dead. In the meantime we get evil Black Lensmen, the Hell Hole in Space, and superweapons like the Negasphere and the Sunbeam, where an entire solar system was turned into a vacuum tube.

It’s not hard to understand why Lensmen faded in importance. While the alien Lensmen had lively psychologies, Lensman Kimball Kinnison was not an interesting person, and that’s a problem when scifi starts to become more about characterization. The Lensman books, with their love of police and their sexism (it is an explicit plot point that the Lens is incompatible with female minds – in canon there are no female Lensmen) led to it being judged harshly by the New Wave writers of the 1960s, who viewed it all as borderline fascist military-scifi establishment hokum, and the reputation of the series never recovered from the spirit of that decade.


Prisoner of Zenda

Prisoner of Zenda is a novel about a roguish con-man who visits a postage-stamp, charmingly picturesque Central European kingdom with storybook castles, where he finds he looks just like the local king and is forced to pose as him in palace intrigues. It’s a swashbuckling story about mistaken identity, swordfighting, and intrigue, one part swashbuckler and one part dark political thriller.

The popularity of this book predates organized fandom as we know it, so I wonder if “fandom” is even the right word to use. All the same, it inspired fanatical dedication from readers. There was such a popular hunger for it that an entire library could be filled with nothing but rip-offs of Prisoner of Zenda. If you have a favorite writer who was active between 1900-1950, I guarantee he probably wrote at least one Prisoner of Zenda rip-off (which is nearly always the least-read book in his oeuvre). The only novel in the 20th Century that inspired more imitators was Sherlock Holmes. Robert Heinlein and Edmond “Planet Smasher” Hamilton wrote scifi updates of Prisoner of Zenda. Doctor Who lifted the plot wholesale for the Tom Baker era episode, “Androids of Tara,” Futurama did this exact plot too, and even Marvel Comics has its own copy of Ruritania, Doctor Doom’s Kingdom of Latveria. Even as late as the 1980s, every kids’ cartoon did a “Prisoner of Zenda” episode, one of the stock plots alongside “everyone gets hit by a shrink ray” and the Christmas Carol episode.

Prisoner of Zenda imitators were so numerous, that they even have their own Library of Congress sub-heading, of “Ruritanian Romance.” 

One major reason that Prisoner of Zenda fandom died off is that, between World War I and World War II, there was a brutal lack of sympathy for anything that seemed slightly German, and it seems the incredibly Central European Prisoner of Zenda was a casualty of this. Far and away, the largest immigrant group in the United States through the entire 19th Century were Germans, who were more numerous than Irish or Italians. There were entire cities in the Midwest that were two-thirds German-born or German-descent, who met in Biergartens and German community centers that now no longer exist.

Kurt Vonnegut wrote a lot about how the German-American world he grew up in vanished because of the prejudice of the World Wars, and that disappearance was so extensive that it was retroactive, like someone did a DC comic-style continuity reboot where it all never happened: Germans, despite being the largest immigrant group in US history, are left out of the immigrant story. The “Little Bohemias” and “Little Berlins” that were once everywhere no longer exist. There is no holiday dedicated to people of German ancestry in the US, the way the Irish have St. Patrick’s Day or Italians have Columbus Day (there is Von Steuben’s Day, dedicated to a general who fought with George Washington, but it’s a strictly Midwest thing most people outside the region have never heard of, like Sweetest Day). If you’re reading this and you’re an academic, and you’re not sure what to do your dissertation on, try writing about the German-American immigrant world of the 19th and 20th Centuries, because it’s a criminally under-researched topic.


A. Merritt

Pop quiz: who was the most popular and influential fantasy author during the 1930s and 40s? 

If you answered Tolkien or Robert E. Howard, you’re wrong - it was actually Abraham Merritt. He was the most popular writer of his age of the kind of fiction he did, and he’s since been mostly forgotten. Gary Gygax, creator of Dungeons and Dragons, has said that A. Merritt was his favorite fantasy and horror novelist.

Why did A. Merritt and his fandom go away, when at one point, he was THE fantasy author? Well, obviously one big answer was the 1960s counterculture, which brought different writers like Tolkien and Lovecraft to the forefront (by modern standards Lovecraft isn’t a fantasy author, but he was produced by the same early century genre-fluid effluvium that produced Merritt and the rest). The other answer is that A. Merritt was so totally a product of the weird occult speculation of his age that it’s hard to even imagine him clicking with audiences in other eras. His work is based on fringe weirdness that appealed to early 20th Century spiritualism and made sense at the time: reincarnation, racial memory, an obsession with lost race stories and the stone age, and weirdness like the 1920s belief that the Polar Arctic is the ancestral home of the Caucasian race. In other words, it’s impossible to explain Merritt without a ton of sentences that start with “well, people in the 1920s thought that…” That’s not a good sign when it comes to his universality. 


That’s it for now. Do you have any suggestions on a dead fandom, or do you keep one of these “dead” fandoms alive in your heart?

This is one of the most shallow reasons for why Kara and Lena are a great match (especially because there are so many great non shallow reasons) but I love that Kara won’t have to worry about spending any extra money she has on food because Lena’s a damn billionaire. I know it’s a running gag about how much Kara loves food but she honestly needs a lot of it.

Kara probably has a semi decent income from CatCo but with all her expenses and the fact that she most likely isn’t paid by the DEO, every leftover penny goes to making sure she gets enough calories, especially after she becomes Supergirl and starts using her powers on a daily basis. That’s a ton of food she has to buy in order to balance out how many calories she burns.

But she never wants Lena to think she’s using the woman for her money. Never. So she insists on splitting the bill or ordering much less than she needs if Lena insists on paying and Lena finds it so damn frustrating because why won’t her best friend let her pay for her food???

Until one day it just clicks for Lena after she’s told the Supergirl secret and has done the calorie math in her head and God Kara how are you able to afford all the food that you need? and the next day when Kara walks into her apartment, she sees that Lena has finally used the key she was given to completely overstock Kara’s kitchen with all sorts meals, snacks, protein bars, etc., with a simple note on the counter saying Let me know when you’re running low and it’s stupid but Kara finds herself getting emotional at Lena’s complete acceptance of who she is.

anonymous asked:

I’m sorry I’m late but i keep hearing about how mama disrespected exo. How?

a) Most of the Venue was full of EXO Ls (because It was in China which is mostly EXO territory). MNET asked fans to not use the EXO lightsticks but use the MAMA lightsticks. It’s not enough that Chinese EXO Ls spend all their money to buy overpriced tickets to a glorified KCON, they now even have to deal with their shitty rules, disrespectful security (who were manhandling not just EXO Ls but ALL fans in general), bad camerawork and uninspired stages.

b) Performing towards the last of the ceremony is always a matter of honour/seniority because that’s the most anticipated part of the event.. but they were made to perform before Wanna One which is a rookie group.

I know one might think its not a big deal, but lmao this mediaplay about “EXO declining” and “ a generational shift” on the korean discussion sites is gonna give antis a field day.

c) EXO was leading the votes in all categories they were nominated in. Yet they got only One group award which is the Album Of The Year and was given to the very end!….(probably to keep the EXO Ls on the venue from leaving.) And tbh.. it felt like a consolation prize for attending the venue than a grand prize.

d) Best Asia Style is the Red Carpet Award we have been giving EXO every year since 2013/14 and its almost like a tradition. This year again, fans voted left and right, fanbases had especially prepared tweeting plans to win it and mind you… WE WERE LEADING THE VOTES IN EVERY UPDATE and even in the total twitter trend. Yet, that award went to another group. (Keep in mind this award is 100% voting based).

e) Chanyeol’s rap was cutoff during the performance. its not abt Soyou, but they couldn’t get Punch to perform with him (who is the original singer) mainly because they werent going to give em an award. Also, Stay with me wasnt given the best OST collab  even though it had a HUGE gap in votes and given the 30% weightage to votes, it should’ve won against Ailee’s songs’ comparatively smaller gap in digitals.

f) Xiumin was supposed to have a key performance… but… where was it?

g) EXO CBX in Japan were given the Best Style award (which was live voted), and the Global fanchoice award for EXO (which was the only category where EXO was leading and won , it being 100% voting based)In short, no merit based award and they still invited CBX over to attend the day just after the Elyxion- dead tired- and along with other popular groups, used them as bait to sell tickets and promote trainees from MNET’s own survival shows.

h) They also subtly copied EXO’s Elyxion’ VCR right in front of CBX eyes for SOTY. The stamp, wax and envelope anyone? whats more, it was a classic Chanel vs walmart lmao.

i) Remember the drama over deleting votes? EXO being in the lead for Best Male Group and then being accused of and shaded left and right about being favored or buying votes or how their career is a gift from SM? Guess all that MNET’s talk about “fairness” was clickbait to stir attention cause Best Male Group was again given to a third party.

I mean… why even make us vote and call it a 30% criteria when you just gonna give it away as you like??

j) Idk if i am being too extra now but in their opening VCR they wrote the sentence “One cannot be No. 1 forever” ? over Chanyeol’s shot in the VCR. Does this count as shade lol…??

k) The boys themselves seemed upset, tired and kinda low throughout the ceremony… with the camera panning into their faces every ten seconds to get reaction from the audiences and it was almost hypocritical knowing how mnet is just using them as a name to sell tickets and ratings and that’s it. 

Maybe I am being overdramatic, but the way the events unfolded…it was just disappointment after disappointment. I even thought they might not get their AOTY lol. And even when they got it… it tasted bitter.

And in general.. it is upsetting as an exo fan… you work hard for your faves who work equally hard , but you know that their company treats them and you.. like shit.. everybody is getting visibly tired of this. And even award shows that are supposed to atleast treat them decently as successful artists just treat them like money making clickbait and nothing more.

It hurts.


And people think we are whining over not getting the other daesang? It’s not even the point that upset us.

4

#447.5 - Riolu spend a lot of time secluded in the mountains, training and undertaking long journeys to improve their skill and strength. As they grow stronger, so does their ability to sense and decipher auras, which they use to better understand their friends and foes. In fact, Riolu are so adapt at reading and manipulating auras that they are able to communicate with other Riolu and Lucario with their auras alone. This communication between friends is key to a Riolu’s development, and if separated from its peers, it must have a strong friendship with its Trainer, supplemented with daily training sessions, in order to evolve.

Names: Riolu - Ricaru - Lucario

#447 Mega - According to a Kalos legend, Lucario are believed to be the first Pokemon ever have been Mega Evolved, though certain tales about Raquaza conflict with this. Once a deserving trainer in possession of the Key Stone has given their Lucario a Lucarionite to hold, Lucario will Mega Evolve, taking on several physical and emotional changes. The rush of power from Mega Evolution boosts the powerful aura energy that thrums through Lucario’s body, creating black patterns on their arms and legs where the energy is flowing. This energy is overwhelming, powering up both Lucario’s attack stat and its intense, ‘heartless’ fighting style. Mega Evolution should be used sparingly to maintain their natural compassion.

[Old Version]

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Follow for more In-Progress Pokemon evolutions!

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Horror in Room 1046 

Just after lunch time on 2 January, 1935, a young man entered the Hotel President in Kansas City, Missouri. He had no luggage and asked if he could have a room for the night. He signed his name as “Roland T. Owen” was given the key for room 1046. Shortly afterwards, the maid arrived to clean the room. As she opened the door, she found the man sitting on the bed in the dark. Even though it was still light outside, he had tightly drawn the blind. She recalled that the man seemed somewhat afraid or nervous. As she was cleaning, he put on his coat and left the room, asking her to leave the door unlocked because he was expecting a friend to arrive later on. At approximately 4PM, the maid arrived at room 1046 to leave fresh towels for the evening. The man was lying on the bed with a note beside him which read: “Don, I will be back in fifteen minutes. Wait.

The following morning, the maid arrived once again to clean the room. Once again, she found the man sitting in the dark. As she cleaned around him, he took a call from “Don” and told him he wasn’t going to get any breakfast. Before she left, he began to question her about her role within the hotel and what duties she was to carry out. When she returned later on in the afternoon with more fresh towels, an unidentified male grunted that they didn’t need any. Later on in the afternoon, another guest reported hearing a woman’s voice coming from room 1046 and relayed that she sounded angry. At around 11pm that night, a man driving downtown saw a man running down the street in pants and a shirt - strange clothing choice for the brisk winter air, he though. The man asked the driver, who he initially mistook as a taxi driver, if he could give them a lift to somewhere that he could flag down a taxi. He noted that the oddly dressed man had a large wound on his arm and looked in a bad shape.

Back at the Hotel President the next morning, it was noticed that the phone in room 1046 was left off the hook. A bellboy was sent up to inform the guest. When nobody answered, he used a master key to enter the room. At first glance, he saw blood smeared over the walls and over the floor. In the bathroom, “Roland T. Owen” was on his knees with rope tied around his neck and wrists. He had been repeatedly stabbed and bludgeoned across the head. Still clinging to life, he said he had “fell against the bathtub.” He died later on that night. An investigation of the room turned up nothing. Not one piece of clothing could be found nor any complimentary hygiene products or towels. It was soon discovered that the man had given a fake name, thus his body was displayed at a local funeral home in the hopes that somebody could recognise him. The man who had picked up the bewildered hitchhiker the night before recognised him immediately. Multiple people from separate establishments, including other hotels and even a wrestling arena, came forward to identify him. However, each person that identified him said that he gave a different name.

As the weeks passed, the man remained unidentified, even though many could identify him by appearance. He was intended to be buried in the city’s cemetery for the unidentified but as locals caught wind of this, police received an anonymous letter from somebody who asked them to hold the burial off until they would be able to forward a hefty amount for a decent burial and funeral. Days later, the money came in and he was buried in Memorial Park Cemetery. A local florist also received an anonymous donation for a bouquet of flowers that were signed off with “Love Forever - Louise.” Other than a couple of investigators working on the case, nobody attended the funeral. 

The case remained cold until 1936, when Eleanor Ogletree read about the murder in a magazine. She believed the description of the man sounded like her brother, 17-year-old Artemus Ogletree, who had been missing since 1934. The family had assumed he was okay because in spring of 1935 - months after “Roland T. Owen” died - they had received several typewritten letters from Artemus, claiming he was sailing to Europe. The family were initially suspicious of these letters because Artemus couldn’t type. A few months after these letters, they received a phone call from a man who told them that Artemus had saved his life in Egypt and that he was happily married to a woman he had met in his travels.

The Ogletree family were shown a photo of the murder victim. It was Artemus, they unfortunately confirmed. His identification led to even more questions. Why had he used so many fake names? Who was the woman in his room? Who was Don? What happened to him the evening he was picked up by the driver, looking dishevelled? Who paid for his funeral? Who was Louise? Who sent the letters to his family? And finally, who killed him and why?

The Vow

Lord Satan … King of Hell … True Master of this World … Father of the Demonic Legion … Thorn in the brow of Christ … Black Flame of Creation … Dark Lord of Desires … Lord of Illusions … Giver of Knowledge … Prince of the Isolate Pit … to you I vow The Given Key Of Satan shall be unveiled … the Priestesses of Satan and Lilith shall be gathered for the Convocation for they are the Priestesses of the new Infernal Aeon … and those Brethren who shall join me shall aid this quest to its successful conclusion … on my Oath as a Satanist this shall manifest for the shades of the Dark Creed already converge for this Calling!

source of picture unknown

when the sky rained greed | 01

→ pt1 • pt2pt3

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: angst, smut / post-apocalyptic au

warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, mutations of the body and mind via radiation, mentions of death, and a terribly co-dependent partnership 

word count: 12,705

description: They rained down, mimicking the path of shooting stars, but only destruction was left in their wake. They took all that you were, and all that you had, they took everything, right down to the cells beating in your bloody goddamn heart, and that’s because it wasn’t viruses or radioactive chemicals that fell on that day — it was greed.

Billowing smoke with its poison-dipped claws. It sliced through their lungs while the raw burn of their flesh sizzled with the toxic air. High-pitched screams of agony echoed as the cells making up their bodies began to alter into something else entirely. Those were the usual answers that you tended to get when asking someone what they remember with the most clarity about The Falling.

You of course were no exception to these inclinations. Emblazoned in your mind with such vigor and despair, every thought that danced through your mind was tinged with the happenings of back then, a haunting shadow that served as a reminder of the rapacity of some humans. Greed fell on that day, in the form of ashes and smoke, taking all that it wanted, which was in fact everything. It destroyed it all, even if the extent of it couldn’t necessarily be seen at that exact moment in time. Because it wasn’t long before you all realized something. You realized that the things you saw, the air you breathed, and even the blood beating in your very own heart, it all belonged to The Falling, not a sliver of anything could be called yours — absolutely nothing.

Keep reading

7

Given its key role in 12x15, I thought it was about time to remake my green cooler appreciation gifset (shoutout to original requester @samspurpletoothbrush)

anonymous asked:

lumax + first 'I love you'? :)

Thanks for the prompt, anon! Hope you like it even though it’s not quite an I love you.


Max threw her comforter over her head and flipped on her flashlight. She then fiddled with the antenna of her supercom for a moment before twisting the power dial to the on position.

“Hey Stalker?” she paused. “You there?”

A few moments passed before the walkie-talkie crackled and Lucas’ voice came through, “yeah, I’m here Mad Max, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” Max lied. “What are you doing?”

“Just finished the history reading,” replied Lucas. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Max asked.

“Because whenever I ask ‘what’s up?’’ you say ‘you mean up your butt?’”

“I do not say that. Because that would be really immature.”

“Yes, you do,” insisted Lucas. “Now, come on, I know you called me because you want to talk about it.”

Max bit her lip and took a breath before speaking.

“I talked to my dad earlier and…” Max felt her throat tighten and she paused, waiting for it to relax.

“Yeah?” Lucas prompted.

“And he said he has to cancel my visit next month… Something about it not being a good time right now.”

“Max, I’m sorry, that sucks.”

“It’s fine,” said Max, wiping at the tears falling down her face she hadn’t realized were there. “It’s dumb it’s just… sometimes it feels like my parents don’t care about me, like neither of them even love me.”

“Max, come on, that’s not true. They love you. They do. How could they not? You’re amazing. Everyone loves you. I love you.”

Max drew in a sharp breath.

“I mean…” Lucas stuttered as he realized what he had just said. “We love you. The party, I mean. And I—I… I love spending time with you.”

“Lucas, it’s okay,” Max takes a deep breath. “It’s more than okay. I lo—”

“No!” Lucas interrupts her. “Sorry, it’s just… we definitely are not saying that while you’re sad about your family. When I say… that, you’re not allowed to be anything other than completely happy.”

“Oh I’m not allowed, huh?” asked Max, teasingly.

“I mean… Obviously, I can’t control you. If you want to be sad, that’s fine, I don’t care. I mean, no, I do care, of course… I should just stop talking now, huh?”

“Wrong,” said Max. “And you were wrong earlier when you said I called you because I wanted to talk about it.”

“Oh yeah, why’d you call me then?” asked Lucas.

“I called you, Stalker, because I wanted to hear your voice.”

Is this Princess Romelle?

This theory is really not my own (shoutout to darkspellmaster’s detailed theory here) but I’m really on board with the idea that this mysterious rebel fighter is Princess Romelle. So lets look at the clues that would suggest this…

First off, she is teamed up with the two most forefront and prominent characters of the Rebel Forces: Matt Holt is the one who links Team Voltron to the Rebels. Captain Olia is leader of the Rebels and was presented to be an important character by Lauren Montgomery prior to the release of S4.

Second, she was included in this dramatic reaction shot along with characters that the audience already have a history with.

Third, she is shown to be part of the Rebel Forces yet her outfit is different from their color scheme.

Fourth, her armour looks similar to King Alfor’s and the Paladin’s armour with the black bodysuit underneath and white breastplate, armplates and leg gear. The color accents of yellow and blue is reminiscent of Alfor’s armour and the shape of her helmet is similar to Allura’s. Altean sentries also have the same white, yellow and blue color scheme. In short, her whole look suggests Altean. (FYI, DotU’s Romelle was a distant relative of Allura because their planets Arus and Pollux were sister planets that were at war)

And fifth, she speaks with a computerized voice modulator which gives her a low woman’s voice. In DotU, Romelle spoke with a lower voice to connote that she was more mature (or older?) than Allura. Her low speaking voice was one of her more recognizable character traits. Also, she is given one line of dialogue that proved to be useful to whats going on in the story.

So this mysterious rebel fighter was inserted into the story and given prominence in the key scenes of the story but nothing else is reveled about her. This could mean that we will see more of her in future episodes.

But if this mysterious rebel is Romelle, where are the other Polluxians? What do they look like? Do they look like the Alteans that we’ve already seen? Or do they shapeshift their appearance to hide their Altean heritage?

you’re an idiot || s.r

Relationship: AU!Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Being in love with your best friend, Steve, isn’t easy. Doing favours for him isn’t easy either. But seeing him with another woman is the hardest. 

Warnings: It gets a little angsty, but then there’s fluff, and also like four swear words.

Word Count: 2.0k

A/N: holy shit i loved writing this so mcuh agh steve is a sweet, stupid boy


“[Y/N], please. I’m begging you,” he pleaded in a hushed voice over the phone sounding desperate. 

“You’re ridiculous for trying this,” you told him flatly as you held your phone between your ear and shoulder while focusing your attention to the array of shirts in front of you. 

“Remember the time I pretended to be your boyfriend to get rid of your ex,” he spoke only to be met with silence on your end, “you owe me,” he reminded as you groaned and stopped your foot like a child, “fine, but just this once,” you told him sternly as you bid a silent farewell to the clothing. 

“Yes! Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he repeated over and over before hushing himself leaving you to assume he didn’t want to be heard, “I’ll be there in ten,” you told him and hung up your phone. 

You had been friends with Steve since university and although you two were long graduated by now, you still saw each other almost everyday. To say you had a crush on Steve was an understatement, you were in love with the man. 

So when he called you asking to come over and pretend to be his wife to get the hookup out of his place you had your reservations. For starters, you were going to see the beautiful girl he had shagged up in the first place and you weren’t sure if you could handle that. 

But Steve always came to your rescue whenever you called, without putting up a fight about it. Whether it was to help you out in your love life or your personal life, he was there in minutes. 

As you walked up to his door you quickly took a deep breath, pulled out the key he had given you, and mustered up your best fake smile before unlocking the door and walking in. 

“Stevie, babe, where are you?” You cooed as you walked through the threshold of the door, yelling far louder than you needed to, but you had to make sure he knew you were here, “Steve,” you said once more, rolling your eyes as you made your way towards his closed bedroom door. 

“Steve I brought - who is this?” You yelled trying to sound surprised as you opened the door to reveal a shirtless Steve and an equally shirtless counterpart on the bed, luckily they were inches apart. 

“Baby!” Steve jumped out of the bed to get dressed, “I said, who is this,” you repeated your question again taking the liberty of pointing to the very gorgeous girl in the bed. 

She had long brown hair and piercing brown eyes that made you self conscious of your own appearance even though you were the fully dressed one. 

“Who am I? Who are you?” The girl accused as you gave Steve a disbelieved look, “I’m his wife,” you dropped the bomb as you pointed to your left ring finger, a wedding band looking ring adorned it. It was just a ring you’d wear everyday but you decided to go the extra mile. 

Steve looked absolutely amused at the back and forth between you and the girl so much so that he stopped getting dressed to watch, “oh my God, I’m so sorry,” the girl apologised as she looked at Steve, “I can’t believe you didn’t mention your wife,” she spat as he just shrugged his shoulders. 

“She was pretty,” you commented as Steve shut the door behind the girl relieved she was finally gone, “she would not leave,” he said with a sigh of relief and made his way over to you, “thank you, by the way,” he said with a smile as he pulled you into a hug which you gave into, loving the way he smelled and felt. 

“And the ring,” he pulled away to look you in the eyes, “nice touch, doll,” he chuckled as you removed the ring and returned it to its original finger, “I tried,” you joked as he joined you. 

“Wanna grab some lunch?” He asked as he paced his kitchen finding nothing, “I could eat, yeah,” you said picking up your purse, “your treat though,” you joked pointing a finger at him, “of course, doll,” he said giving you a kiss on the cheek before opening the door for you. 


You still felt butterflied every time Steve called you ‘doll’ or kissed your cheek or lead you by placing his hand on the small of your back. It all made you blush and feel like a school girl all over again. 

Steve had asked if you wanted to grab some dinner and then catch a late movie since it was your Friday tradition. Twice a month, every month. 

You looked at the time seeing how you were going to be a little late getting to Steve’s and decided to let him know. You quickly dialled his number and waited for him to pickup. That’s strange, you thought as it went to voicemail. He always picks up. Nonetheless you decided to leave a message anyways, “hey Stevie, it’s me, I’m running a little late I’ll be at your place in fifteen minutes,” you said and hung up before picking up your pace. 

You were true to your word because fifteen minutes later you were standing outside his front door knocking on the wood. You stood there playing with your hands for a few minutes, but Steve never answered the door, “Steve?” You knocked again. No answer. You assumed he was just in the shower since you’d given him some extra time so you let yourself in with the key. 

What you weren’t ready for was the sight of him on the couch as a the same pretty little brunette sat atop of him, his face on hers. Something in your snapped and you hadn’t realised you dropped your keys until they made a sound on the hardwood floor startling both him and the girl. 

“[Y/N],” he whispered your name, pushing the girl off of his body and standing up to walk over to you, “I-I-I’ll get out of your hair,” you said, your voice quivering and slightly above a whisper. 

You could hear Steve calling your name but you forced your legs to keep carrying you until you finally lost the sound of his voice allowing a few tears to slip free. 


You didn’t know how long you had been crying, but the sun had now come up and you had only been falling in and out of sleep the rest of the night. 

You didn’t even know why that moment exactly made you crack and let everything just spill. Maybe it was because although you had always known that Steve hooks up, you never had to actually witness him doing anything like that. 

You sighed into your pillow and slowly got up to go to the bathroom to take the longest shower of your life. You didn’t even dare looking in the mirror because you had a pretty good idea of what it would look like. Red, puffy eyes, a red nose, and of course, all your makeup running and smudged along your face. You were okay with not knowing. 

The cool water felt nice against your hot body and you tried to scrub the image of Steve and her out of your mind you couldn’t no matter how hard you tried. You wanted to scream at yourself for being so stupid, for storming out, for letting it affect you this much. 

Once you had finished your shower you headed back to your room to check your phone, but you found it dead at the bottom of your purse so you plugged it back in and let it recharge. 

You got dressed in a pair of your favourite sweats and a loose tee shirt and hopped onto your bed again to check your phone. 

Unsurprisingly you had a bunch of missed calls and texts from Steve. You groaned knowing you’d have to face him soon to explain your behaviour so you decided to check your voicemail. 

Hey, it’s uh, me, Steve. I’m just calling to check on you and apologise for uh, well you know. Call me back as soon as you can please, doll. 

You dryly laughed at him calling you doll and shook your head. You didn’t wanna hear any of the other messages so you just left your phone to charge while you distracted yourself with a movie. 


“How could you be so stupid?!” Bucky yelled at Steve who was pacing his apartment in a frenzy, “I know Buck, I know,” Steve groaned as he fell onto the couch with his head in his hands. 

“Weren’t you supposed to, I don’t know, tell her that you love her last night,” Bucky said rhetorically as his best friend sat in agony, “what was she even doing here?” He asked referring to the brunette Bucky hadn’t cared enough to get the name of. 

“I don’t know, she came in saying how we should have a round two and she just kept cornering me until we were on the couch and started kissing me,” he said groaning at the thought again, “I’m such an idiot,” Steve muttered, “yes you are,” Bucky agreed as he took a seat next to his mourning friend. 

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky repeated as Steve shot him a glare, “but this is still a salvageable situation,” he assured as Steve perked up, “she won’t even text me back,” he told Bucky defeated, “that’s why you go over to her place, dumbass,” Bucky encouraged by dragging Steve to his feet, “go,” he urged again, “now,” he finally said before Steve finally got the message and bolted out of his door. 


You ignored the first knock, and the second, and the third. By the sixth knock you were irritated, annoyed, and angry that you had to leave your comfortable bed. 

You knew who was at the door and you knew he wouldn’t leave until you opened the door, “stop knocking already,” you groaned as you opened the door to find a very disheveled Steve. 

He took one step into your apartment as enveloped you in a giant hug holding you tightly, “I’m so sorry,” he whispered in your hair. 

You pushed him away to get a good look at him, “it’s okay, we can just move movie night to another Friday,” you shrugged nonchalantly trying to play off as calm and collected. 

“No,” he softly said before taking another step towards you, “I’m sorry about her. About all the girls. It was selfish of me,” he said looking into your eyes trying to read your expression. 

You shrugged, “you shouldn’t be apologising, it’s your life after all,” you said averting your eyes to the floor. 

The two of you stood in silence for a little while before Steve spoke up again, “I think I’m in love with you,” he mumbled almost too quietly for you to hear, but you did hear him. 

Your head shot up to meet his eyes, there was nothing cynical in his eyes, his statement showing true through his eyes, “I’m falling in love with,” he repeated once more with more confidence, “all those girls were just a lame attempt at distracting me from you,” he chuckled dryly at his own stupidity, “Bucky’s right, I am an idiot,” he said more so to himself than you. 

He was about to turn and leave but you caught wrist just in time making him spin and look at you one more time, “Bucky is right, you are an idiot,” you said, a tinge of humour in your eyes and voice, “but I’m glad you said that,” you confessed as a smile made its way onto Steve’s face, “why’s that?” He asked, a teasing tone in his voice. 

“This is why,” you whispered as you locked your arms around his neck and pulled him down onto your lips. His hands flew do your waist as he circled them around you to pull you in closer. The kiss was messy and needy and not at all as romantic as you thought your first kiss with Steve would be like, but you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything else. 

“I’m so glad you had the guts to do that first,” he admitted shyly as you pulled away, foreheads resting against each others, “I was growing frustrated,” you joked as he placed a lingering kiss onto your lips. 

“Oh and Steve,” you spoke up, “I know I’m falling in love with you.” The rest of the night was history.